


It only hurts if you think about it

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Treat, Underage Prostitution, Xeno, tense changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-10 19:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Back when he was first on the run from the Empire, Kanan did anything he needed to in order to survive. He's almost managed to forget.





	It only hurts if you think about it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinktomato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinktomato/gifts).

> Dear kt,
> 
> Never have I read a prompt in a letter that spoke so directly to my id.

They hadn't gotten out of bed for three days.

Kanan kissed the nearest skin he could find, which was the back of Hera's shoulder, and admitted to himself that wasn't entirely true. They'd eaten, they'd showered, and they'd assured Chopper they were fine and no he couldn't come in. Hera had ducked into the cockpit a number of times to confirm their heading hadn't changed and nothing had gone wrong with her ship while she'd been distracted. Other than that, though, they'd passed the time here in her cabin.

"Don't expect this to be a regular occurrence," Hera had told him yesterday. "I go through moods. It's not about you."

Kanan suspected her current mood was about him, thank you, but he was happy enough that she'd finally decided to sleep with him. He wasn't going to press the issue why Hera had decided to do so now. They were having too much fun, and it was a _lot_ of fun. Hera was the most adventurous woman he'd been with. He wasn't sure if it was a Twi'lek thing or a Hera thing, but it joined the many things he liked about her.

She made a noise in her throat, pressing back against his lips. He obliged by mouthing nonsense words against her shoulder blade before pressing another kiss against her neck. "Like that?"

"I do."

She turned, faced him, kissed him back, then climbed out of the bunk. He propped up his head to watch her. Another couple of weeks of seeing her naked and he might get tired of the view. He didn't think so, though. He watched her rummage through a drawer until she pulled out a thick, floppy blue item. For one fuzzy second his brain thought she'd pulled out a roll of socks before he made the identification. She'd already introduced him to the vibrating tip she used when she wanted to get off quickly. This was something new.

Kanan leaned over. "How many toys do you have in that drawer?"

"A few," she said, and closed it before he could see.

He judged his own luck, thought it was pretty good, and used his powers to open the drawer. Hera frowned, shutting it again. He waited half a second before repeating the move.

She put her hand on the drawer, then looked up at him suspiciously. "Is that you?"

He smirked. "Maybe."

Hera put on a stern face, closing the drawer with a final snap. "Naughty."

He let his face go slack with contrition, swallowing his grin as Hera rejoined him on the bunk. "Is that your offer to punish me?"

"Could be." Her eyes glittered in the low light. This could be a fun new game. She grasped his hair, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to tug him up to a sitting position beside her. "Let's start with something easy."

"I like easy." As he said the last word, Hera grabbed his jaw and pulled down, again not hard enough to hurt but firmly enough to move him. With her other hand she thrust the blue toy into his mouth, cutting off his air and choking him. The room closed in around him as sudden terror overtook him.

* * *

He doesn't know how old he is. He'll start counting years again later, when he's old enough to work as a day laborer, carrying scandocs with a birthdate as faked as his new name. All he knows is that it's been a long time since he last saw Kasmir, long enough for him to grow a few inches. The clothes on his back are there courtesy of a charity worker from two planets ago. "May the Force be with you," she said.

"Never heard of it," he responded, but he took the clothes and the thin soup the temple served to the poor.

Two planets on, the clothes need a wash, and he's fantasizing about the oily surface of the soup like it was a feast. He hasn't eaten in days, not since the day after he arrived here. Theft and mind-tricks have become regular parts of his life, but the primary species on this planet aren't susceptible to a push to their minds. Ardrobians are also not keen on humans, not since the Empire began its Humans First policy. Begging won't help even if the small Imperial presence here hadn't already made that illegal.

He doesn't have any money left, not to buy something to eat, not to get off this rock to somewhere better. No one here is interested in hiring a skinny human for the kind of manual labor that pays without questions. Until he gets hold of those scandocs, he can't get any other jobs on this world, not under his new name, and not under the one he left behind.

He's wandering, ignoring the pain in his stomach, when an Ardrobian falls into step beside him. Kanan turns his eyes to look. He's seen this one around before, spending time along the same streets; his gaze is a little sharper than most, and the bulges and pocks on his face are more pronounced. Kanan doesn't talk to the newcomer. He hurries his steps slightly, and the Ardrobian keeps pace.

"You're a human," he says by way of greeting.

Yes, obviously. "Got it first guess."

The Ardrobian nods. "How much?"

Kanan doesn't understand the question. His brain's getting foggier as time passes. All he can think about is food, and he's not sleeping well when he's hungry. He doesn't reply.

"How much, human?"

Kanan shakes his head. The Ardrobian takes his arm with one of several feathery feelers. Sounding winded, a little out of breath, he says, "I'll give you fifty credits."

That catches his attention. He hasn't made more than fifteen credits a day for months. Fifty will feed him for a month or more. It's enough for a ticket on a tramp freighter headed anywhere else. "I can work," Kanan says. "I'm a quick learner." He has to be. Life in the Jedi Temple prepared him for a life of quiet meditation, and of leading clone troopers in galactic warfare. It had not offered lessons in farming, sewing, metalworking, food preparation, marketing of wares, mining, or anything else he could use to earn a living now. He picks up what he can as quickly as he can.

"I'll bet," says the Ardrobian, and the feeler on his arm becomes solid. He tugs Kanan close, his breath coming in quick pants. He's not winded, he's excited. Bulges grow under his robe, pressing at Kanan. "Call me Dallos."

Kanan's brain snaps into place from the encroaching fog. Dallos isn't hiring him to work. In a moment, he breaks the man's hold on him. The Jedi Order did teach him to fight. "No." He steps quickly away, shaking his head. "Not interested."

His stomach is interested in the offer. He ignores the rumble and runs, not looking back to see if he's being followed. There's got to be something he can do to scrape together some credits. Everyone he ever cared about in his youth died badly, murdered by people they trusted. He's going to survive long enough to starve.

Despondent, desperate, he lets his steps take him back by a cookery. Two days ago, he ate the scraps in the rubbish after the cleaner forgot to lock the lid. He might get lucky now, and if not, he can break the lock. He lingers close by, driven half mad by the smell of the cooking food and the sight of Ardrobians walking out, clearly well-fed and happy. He only has to wait.

Some of the patrons bring their leftover food out in sacks. Kanan's eyes follow them as they walk away carrying the fragrant-smelling parcels. They've already eaten. He reasons they're not going to miss an extra portion.

He lets himself walk by a family heading out, and he reaches out with the Force to make the patriarch trip. While the other family members attend to him, Kanan gently lifts one of their ignored sacks.

"Stop! Thief!" He's already around the corner, ready to dive into an alley. Two constables are running towards him. In better times, he could fight. He drops the food and tries to run, but they have him now. The constables drag him back to the family.

"That human stole our meal!" says the patriarch.

"It was witchcraft!" says one of the Ardrobian youths. Kanan bites his tongue. They saw him use his powers. He's in a lot more trouble if that makes it into the official report.

One of the constables hands back the sack of food. "Our apologies for your loss, sir." Kanan can't stop his eyes from following the sack, now greasy with the spilled contents. "We'll charge him, of course." He might get fed in jail, but as soon as they ID him, he's as good as dead. Kanan struggles harder, but he's so tired, and if he uses his powers to escape, the Empire will start another manhunt.

"That won't be necessary," says another voice. Dallos approaches them, conciliatory feelers waving in the air. "He's my responsibility. Got away from me, the little scamp." He flicks a feeler at Kanan's head. He uses another to toss a few credits at the patriarch. "A payment for your meal, sir."

With a satisfied nod from the patriarch, the constables let Kanan go, but not until Dallos has a firm hold on him. "Watch this one," one of them says. "You can't trust a human."

"Don't I know it." He tugs on Kanan's arm, and caught between a death sentence and this foul savior, Kanan follows, his heart sinking. He wonders if they'll return to where Dallos lives.

They don't make it three streets away.

"I just spent twenty credits to save your neck, human."

From somewhere far away, Kanan says, "Thank you." His stomach is a tight ball. He doesn't want to think about what's about to happen. He wants to curl in a tight ball for twenty hours, and wake up back on Coruscant, this long nightmare finally ended.

The alley smells like alleys all over the galaxy. Someone is trying to sleep in the garbage at the other end. Kanan has spent too many nights sleeping in places like this. He's never been shoved to his knees in one while his benefactor moves aside his robes, and the terror inside his head is unlike the various terrors he's known since the night Depa died.

Ardrobians have multiple protuberances under their robes. Young Caleb received biology lessons seventeen million years ago back on Coruscant, explaining the differences among species. The lessons didn't say what to do with faced with these. Before Kanan can even speculate, Dallos grabs his head and forces his mouth over the largest protuberance. The spongy flesh cuts off Kanan's air, choking him as Dallos holds him in place. It's an unfair mockery of the food he needs, and tears prick his eyes. He can't breathe. He's going to die like this. There's someone half-asleep in the alley listening to him choke to death and all they care about is their rest being disturbed. No one is coming to save him.

Dallos tugs his hair back. Kanan sucks in air. "Use your mouth, human. Your parents gave you that tongue for a reason."

He doesn't know what to do, so he does whatever he can, stroking the tumescent organ with his tongue and moving his lips along it. Dallos groans and mutters, using two of his feelers to move Kanan's head. His other organs poke Kanan's cheeks, and Dallos pulls him onto those in turn. Kanan breathes when he can, hitching in sobs of air. His neck aches, and his knees sting, and his stomach is a ball of cold kyber. Dallos yanks his head and forces the largest organ all the way into Kanan's throat. Kanan gags and swallows around it, his vision graying out.

With a deep groan, Dallos sprays a thick lump of viscous fluid down Kanan's sore throat before pulling away. Kanan wheezes around the mess threatening to sink into his lungs. He can't rest until his head is forced back on each of the smaller organs, which fill his mouth with more bitterness.

He's pushed to the ground. "Don't spit it out," Dallos warns him as Kanan heaves and coughs. "Swallow it all or you'll regret it." He keeps the horrible stuff in his mouth and manages to swallow most of the vile stuff even as some escapes in a dribble. Dallos strokes his face with one tendril, wiping off a bit of the mess. "Good job, human. I knew you'd be worth it. I bet you've done this hundreds of times."

Kanan can't speak. There's nothing to say.

Twenty credits clink when they hit the ground beside him. Kanan doesn't have them counted until they're safe in his hand. Then he says the only thing he can. "You said fifty."

"I paid twenty already. The other ten are my fee for saving you from jail." Dallos tucks his robe back into place. "Stay out of trouble and I'll pay you fifty next time."

Twenty is enough to feed him for a couple of weeks if he scrimps. Arguing with Dallos will get him hauled back to the constables.

Everything hurts. Kanan pockets the money. Prideful words about how there won't be a next time won't save him. He needs to eat. He needs to get to another planet.

"When's next time?"

Dallos smiles, the protuberances on his face moving around unpleasantly. "Eager? I like that." He pats Kanan on the shoulder. Kanan tries not to shudder, and fails. "Meet me here tomorrow night. I'll bring the money and a friend. Don't worry. He'll pay, too."

"Right," Kanan says. "I'll be here." The credits are heavy in his pocket, and there's another cookery with cheap food that's still open. At the moment his stomach doesn't think it could hold anything down, but that's a problem for after he's bought a meal. Dallos and his friend can be a problem for after Kanan has eaten and slept. He may stop shivering by then, but he doesn't think so.

* * *

By the time his vision snapped back, the toy was out of sight and Hera held his hands in hers. He was aware that only a few seconds had passed. He was also aware that he was shaking. Hera's face was drawn in deep worry. When she saw him focus on her, her first words were, "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. I should never have done that."

He could breathe. He wasn't a scared, hungry kid. He'd left Ardroban Prime, and he'd never returned, and none of those things stopped the shivering. "I'll be fine." He managed a weak smile. "Sorry to ruin the mood."

"Come on," she said as she climbed out of the bunk. She handed him his pants. Guess the mood really had been ruined. He felt better as he put on his clothes. He got one more nice eyeful as she donned hers. Then she opened the door, leading him to the galley. Hera turned on the caf.

"Hungry?" he asked her, and the word sent a spark through his brain again which he covered with a thin smile she didn't buy.

"Sure. We'll have some breakfast, and we can talk."

Kanan pulled back inside himself. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about what had happened.

As if reading his mind, and sometimes he wondered if she could, Force or no Force, Hera said, "We can talk about anything you like."

"I'm fine," he said. "Really."

"You're as fine as I am," she said. She poured the two mugs and set them on the table. "Love, the past is a terrible place. If you don't want to revisit it, that's fine with me. The future is trouble enough. I've got some ideas for our next job. We can talk about that." She sat down and picked up her mug. After a moment, he sat across from her.

She'd given him an opening to talk about something else. She would let him avoid the topic screaming inside his mind right now and give him space.

Kanan sighed. "When I was fifteen or sixteen, not sure which, I wound up on Ardroban Prime."

Hera drank her caf, and she listened.


End file.
